To Be Fated
by storyspinners
Summary: "When his legs wouldn't carry him anymore, when he walked as far as he could go, Alfred stopped and sat on the edge of the curb. Arthur found him there later. He didn't say a word. Alfred didn't say anything back because he wasn't ready to." AU USxUK


**~To Be Fated~**

Title comes from the song _Behind Blue Eyes_ by The Who

* * *

_before_

"I mean dude, she was pretty hot right?" one of the guys on the team was yelling throughout the locker room. His voice mixed with the sound of movement and slamming lockers.

Another guy called out, "So hot!" He punched Alfred in the arm beside him, eyes gleaming. "Alfred knows what I'm talking about right."

Alfred slung his bag over his shoulder, hitting his teammate back good-naturedly with something of a smile across his face, saying "Yeah."

Alfred headed to the art room later, for his sixth period class.

When he arrived, he dropped down into a seat next to Arthur. Always next to Arthur.

As his friend pulled out his books and supplies, Alfred idly grabbed one of the previous class's projects off the side window table; a papier-mâché mask. He looked at it, fiddling with it in his hands.

When Arthur looked over at him, Alfred held it to his face and tilted his head, muttering, "High school sucks."

xXx

_after_

Alfred didn't know where to go. The night was chilly, with a breeze brushing past his face, making him shiver slightly, and Alfred didn't know what to do.

So he walked.

He felt lost. His feet carried him down a familiar empty street, but he was lost.

And someone should not have to feel like this, someone should not have to feel this much _hurt_. It wasn't _fair_.

He didn't know what to do.

xXx

_before_

There was shuffling beside him and Alfred turned to find Emma, smiling as she swiped the glass of punch from his hand and drinking it's contents with an unnecessary, large gulp. Alfred made a face at her before taking a second cup and pouring himself another.

As she surveyed the backyard, Emma remarked casually, "Interesting neighborhood party your mom has going on here."

Alfred shrugged. It was alright. There were neighbors and friends milling about; talking, eating the food placed on several tables scattered around the lawn, and mostly talking some more. Pretty boring since they weren't allowed to play any games, but it was nice out and they didn't all have to cram into one house.

"Although," Emma continued, watching Alfred out of the corner of her eye, mouth twitching at the edges, "Your mom does keep sending me over here to talk to you. For some god-awful reason."

Alfred laughed at that. But his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Probably because you're a very pretty girl, you're also my friend, and she wants me to ask you out on a date," he said. Alfred shuffled from foot to foot, glancing down to his cup as he faintly swirled the punch around in a circle.

"Ah," Emma said, nodding. She hesitated before raising a hand to pat Alfred's shoulder, but thought better of it and lowered her arm back to her side.

They both drank their punch instead.

After another moment, Emma set her glass down and offered, "Since it looks like you need something else to do, I'll introduce you to Arthur and Francis. Friends of mine. They go to our school and are actually around here somewhere," she said, somewhat enthusiastically.

"Ok," Alfred replied.

Emma paused. "Not all that exciting of an alternative is it?" she said.

"Not really life-changing, no."

xXx

_after_

"I didn't even yell back, Arthur. I didn't do anything. I just _sat_ there." Alfred was pacing across the floor. His voice kept catching in his throat and he wished it would stop dammit. "I sat there and I couldn't—" Alfred made a helpless noise and ran his hands back through his hair. He pulled his fingers tight, taking in the minute pain of his tugging as he let out a frustrated breath.

Arthur listened, not getting up from the chair beside his bedroom desk. His eyes never left Alfred. "There was nothing you could have done—"

"Then why do I want to yell!" Alfred rounded on Arthur, glaring furiously, "Why do I want to scream and fight and break things and make her listen to me!"

Arthur didn't blink, didn't back away, and said calmly, "It wasn't your fault."

Alfred's shoulders slumped as his legs gave out and he plopped down on Arthur's bed. Silence stretched between them, filling in all the unsaid spaces, until Alfred mumbled, almost too quiet to hear, "Why do I still wish she cared? Why does it hurt so fucking much?"

Arthur didn't have an answer for him.

xXx

_before_

"Hey Mom! Do you have a sec? I need to talk to you about something."

"Maybe later Alfred, ok! We'll talk later."

"Alright."

xXx

_after_

When his legs wouldn't carry him anymore, when he walked as far as he could go, Alfred stopped and sat on the edge of the curb.

Of all people, Arthur found him there a little while later.

Arthur knew. Glancing up, Alfred could tell that he knew. Arthur sat down next to him, sneakers scuffing against the pavement and his arm brushing up warm against Alfred's. He didn't say a word. Alfred didn't say anything back because he wasn't ready to.

The back of his throat burned. If tears crept to the corners of Alfred's eyes, he scrubbed them away fiercely, mad at himself.

And later Arthur would say, voice quiet, "You can stay at my house."

And later Alfred would nod his head and feel his throat burning again.

xXx

"_What is it Alfred?"_

"_I. Mom I—"_

_There was the sound of someone shifting in a chair._

"_Mom. I'm gay."_

_There was silence._

_There was a blank and unreadable expression._

"_I mean. I wanted to tell you. I know—"_

"_Get out." It was a whisper._

_There was more silence._

"_What?"_

"_Get Out!" It was a shout._

_There was a pained expression, a scrape of chair legs across the floor, and the sound of a door opening and closing._

xXx

* * *

Took a different approach to writing this, because it's kind of hard to express feeling _this_ when there aren't any words to explain it.


End file.
